Chauburji There was a time when the 'dengue fever carrying mosquito had not yet found that Lahore provided an excellent environment for it to breed and spread its deadly virus. This was a time when mosquitoes were associated with Malaria and Lahoris of yore took elaborate measures during the hot summer months to safeguard themselves against its bite. As the sun went down, mothers hurried to cover exposed parts of their children from the winged onslaught. Adults also rolled down their sleeves and put on light socks. Living quarters were sprayed with a liquid brand named Flit, using pumps fashioned out of tin. These pumps consisted of a cylindrical container affixed to another cylinder which enclosed a leather washer, pushed and pulled by a handle and wooden grip. Some families resorted to dhooni or fumigation, using old leaves stacked into a pile and ignited to produce thick smoke that was supposed to drive away all offending insects. A family friend, who was also a botanist, used a novel technique to ensure a mosquito free residence. He had fashioned fumigators out of old pitchers with a hole like window near the base. This plant expert collected a particular variety of grass from his garden and stuffed it into these pitchers. He then lit the grass through the hole at the base. The resultant smoke spewed out of the open top of the pitcher and fumigated the premises. This gentleman claimed that the grass carried properties that killed or drove away mosquitoes. I never questioned his claim as his house and surrounding area were always mosquito free. The sleeping ritual in those days of yore was also elaborate. As summers approached, cots were moved out of rooms on rooftops and terraces. In the early summer months, something called a shabnami was set up on each cot. This consisted of a rectangular cloth with loops at each corner tied to six foot bamboos fixed like an 'X at each end of the cot. This formed a canopy that kept out the shabnam or dew and sometimes droppings from nocturnal bats. As summer progressed and mosquitoes began appearing, the shabnami was replaced by mosquito nets called machar danis. These were made of a lace-like material and consisted of a canopy and curtains that could be dropped on all four sides completely enclosing the sleeper and keeping mosquito out. Setting up this contraption required a fair amount of expertise and the inexperienced amongst the family often found themselves hopelessly entangled in its intricate embrace. Despite all these precautions, some unfortunate Lahoris did manage to contract malaria, the standard medicine for which was Quinine. This 'bitterly bitter remedy was highly unpopular with both young and old, as it was highly unpalatable and often produced nausea. Nonetheless, it was effective and saved many lives. Another oft-witnessed phenomenon was the sight of two men walking along drains that lined the streets in the walled city, carrying cloth rags wrapped around long sticks. One half of this pair regularly dipped this rag into old ghee canisters filled with a dark oily liquid and dripped the same generously on the contents of the drain. The other half of this duo trailed a stick in the often foul contents with the apparent purpose of mixing what had been put there. If one was curious enough to take a closer look, one was apt to find the surface spotted with brown oily spots that smelled of something like kerosene. This was the municipalitys way of ensuring the health of citizens and minimising the threat of mosquito borne disease. Sadly, one does not see the sight any more and the local government appears to have lost the urge to preempt the onslaught of insect borne disease. Speaking of preemption, one can only hope that the powers responsible for the health of the citizens of Lahore read this column and realise that the loss of life from mosquito borne maladies can be minimised, if counter measures like spraying and fumigation are put into effect before the disease erupts in near epidemic form. The writer is a freelance columnist.